


I'll Take It

by verushka70



Series: Another Life [5]
Category: due South
Genre: Drama, M/M, Series: Another Life, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-01-19
Updated: 2000-01-19
Packaged: 2018-11-10 09:07:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11124120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verushka70/pseuds/verushka70
Summary: Ray feels guilty for provoking Fraser the way he did... but they may have found a way to make up for it.





	I'll Take It

**Author's Note:**

> This story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). It has not been changed (nor will it be) on import to the AO3, except to more appropriately or descriptively tag, and to fix broken web links. Ever so grateful to [Open Doors](http://opendoors.transformativeworks.org/) and to [Speranza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Speranza/pseuds/Speranza), for making the archive import to AO3 happen. TYK!

I'll Take It

  
Pairing/warning/rating: Fraser/Kowalski slash, angst, no kink (except discussed in past tense), NC-17

Disclaimer: Fraser and Ray are unfortunately not mine. They belong to Alliance. Bummer... cuz I have way more fun with them than Alliance ever will. 

Sequel to A Certain Predictable Response. Ray's POV. 

  
  
  


#### I'll Take It

  
  


Jesus fucking Christ. What the hell was I thinkin'. I _wasn_ 't thinkin', that's for sure. God, I feel like such an _idiot_. I coulda _lost_ him! What the hell would I do if he left? I can't freakin' _believe_ I did that.

I gotta do something. Oh, shit, we have to talk. The four worst words in the English language: We. Have. To. Talk.

I'd wake him up but I don't wanna bug him more about this. Let sleeping dogs lie, right? I mean, not that he's the sleeping dog -- no way. The sleeping dog is my _take me now, give it to me rough_ problem. And that problem's settled now. Maybe for good. 

Christ, why do I just have to go ahead and do stuff without thinking? Without thinking at _all_? Someone musta hit me with the dumb stick or somethin' the other day, cuz I dunno what the hell I was thinkin'.

Fraser. God, don't ever go.

Me and my stupid, sorry ass. Oh, sure, cuz I want something kinky, somethin' spicier, I'm gonna risk losing him? What fucking dumbass planet did I come from? It's not good enough that he lets _me_ have _my_ way with him almost any time I want. Oh, nooooo. I hadda go and try and get him to be more like me. Well, he's not, right? He's him. That's why I love him. What the hell was I thinkin', trying to get him to get jealous and possessive and wild like an animal?

If that's the only way I can get him to do it, then forget it. I don't wanna hurt him. I don't want him to think the wrong thing -- like that I could actually blow him off for some pretty boy like Patterson. I wouldn't care if Fraser never went wild like that again -- as long as he never freaked like that again, as long as he never really believed for a _second_ that I'd take someone like Patterson over him. That I'd take _anyone_ over him.

Okay, so I'm lying. I would care if he never went wild like that again. But I sure as hell ain't gonna do anything like that to provoke it again. I mean, I may be damaged, but I'm not stupid. New mistakes. That's what I like to make. New ones. Not the same stupid ones over and over. I'll never make that mistake again.

Fraser...

God, I wish I could wake him up. But I'm not gonna. He's in dreamland and it took us both long enough for him to drop off and one of us to get some sleep, I'm not wakin' him up now. But I can't sleep now. I wish there was something I could do, some way to prove to him he's the only one, forever, I don't need no one else, I don't want no one else. There has to be somethin'. Right? If they did same-sex civil services, I am _there_. I'd drag him down there as soon as they opened tomorrow morning.

But they don't.

Not that it would matter anyway, right? He knows I already been married once before. Obviously the words and the legal paperwork didn't keep that together. So that wouldn't prove anythin' to him. Nothin'. It'd prove nothin' to him. Might even make him _more_ doubtful.

Shit.

* * *

I dunno why I got this. Stupid and drunk at the time. I mean, c'mon. So I worked on cars with Dad. Big freakin' deal. No reason to get a tattoo.

But maybe I could get this burned off. Laser surgery. They do that now. I could get this lasered off.

And put _Benton Fraser_ on me.

There's a knock on the door.

"Ray?"

"Yeah, Frase, I'm in here."

"Are you all right?"

"Sure, I'm fine. Why?"

"You've been in there for forty-five minutes." Whoa, how'd he know that? "You're not sick are you?"

"Uh, no, Frase. I thought you were sleepin'."

"Well, I was. But I woke up."

"Sorry I woke ya. Musta been talkin' out loud."

"You didn't wake me by talking, Ray. I woke up because... because your side of the bed was empty."

Ah, crap.

"Okay, well, I'm fine, Frase. Really, I'm okay... you just go back to bed, I'll be there in a few."

"Uh, well, actually, Ray... now I need to use the facilities, too."

"Oh. Uh, okay, I'll be right out." I yank the sleeve of my t-shirt back down over my Champion tattoo, flush the toilet for no reason, and then open the door.

"Hey."

"Hello," he says, sweet and careful. Christ! I'm such a fuckup. Now we'll be tiptoeing around each other for days.

"It's all yours, Frase," I tell him, squeezing past him.

He looks at me funny. "You're sure you're all right?" he asks me? 

"Sure, I'm sure," I lie.

He nods, lookin' doubtful, but goes on into the bathroom and shuts the door behind him.

It's freakin' 4:00 A.M. on my clock radio. I gotta get some sleep... only I can't. I kept laying awake and thinking. That's why I got up in the first place, why I was in the bathroom lookin' at my tattoo.

The sheets are cold on my side of the bed cuz I've been out of it for so long. Oh well.

"Ray."

"Hey, Frase," I say, cautious.

He slips into bed beside me and neither one of us says anything. Then we both talk at the same time.

"Frase--"

"Ray--"

"You first," I tell him.

"No, no. You, Ray."

"Oh, no. I should just keep my mouth shut. Just tell me what you were gonna say. It's all right. I wasn't gonna say anything too important anyway," I tell him. Liar.

"I just wanted to say that... that I have no reason to doubt your feelings for me. Or your ...commitment. It really isn't you. I know that. It's me. My ...uncertainty. I do believe you. The small increment of doubt in me is not your fault. It's always ...always been there." He finishes in a rush.

This is a surprise. But it doesn't make me feel any better. The five worst words in the English language: It's. Not. You. It's. Me. Yeah, everyone says that... right before they dump you or turn you down.

"No, Frase. It mighta been there but I made it ten times worse. It was a mega-dumb thing to do and I dunno why I did it," I tell him. I'm such a liar. I know why I did it.

"It won't happen again," I add. And probably neither will you manhandling me, taking me, hard and fast and so good... but that's okay. I can deal. As long as I still have you.

"If only it were that simple, Ray. It would be easy to say it was your fault. But, honestly, it isn't. Yes, I believe what you did exacerbated the problem. But it didn't _cause_ it. The problem was already there. I... I don't seem to be very good at trusting either the right people or distrusting the people I should distrust. Not in close relationships, anyway." He stops, and then starts again. "You're one I should trust implicitly. I know that. In my head, intellectually, I know that. How my heart feels... that's not your fault. My heart was... is... not so secure. Not so self-confident. And that is _not_ your fault. Please. Believe me. It's always been this way."

So you're saying you don't trust me, in your heart? Oh, jeeze. I really fucking blew it.

"Frase, I'm just saying... I, I fucked up and I know it. I don't know any way to prove to you that you're really the one for me, but ya are. If I ever find some way to show you, I will." I sigh. "I thought about a couple things, but... neither one of them would really prove it for certain, I guess." Because of previous dumb decisions I've made. Stella. Champion spark plugs. Stupid. "So if you ever think of somethin' that'll prove to you that I mean what I say, and you're the only one for me, let me know. I'd do it in a heartbeat."

I probably shouldn't've said I thought of anything, but, they were the only two things I could think of.

"You've thought of things to do to prove to me that I'm the only one for you?" he asks.

"Yeah, Frase, I did."

"Well..." he hesitates but I can hear the curiosity in his voice. "Well, what occurred to you?"

I shoulda known he was gonna ask me that.

"Frase, okay, all right, I'll tell ya... only don't laugh. Okay?" 

"I would never laugh."

"Well, you might when ya hear 'em."

"I can assure you I would not find humor in something that meaningful and important."

"Well... Okay, ya know how you were wondering why I was in the bathroom so long? And ya thought I was sick or somethin'?"

"Yes..."

"Well, I wasn't sick or nothin'. I was lookin' in the mirror." Eh, now I'm getting cold feet. He's gonna think this is stupid.

"And...?"

"An' I was lookin' at the tattoo on my right arm. And thinkin' how they got laser surgery to get rid of tattoos now. It was a stupid tattoo, I was drunk and young and dumb. Me and my ol' man and cars. So I was thinkin'... I could get rid of it." Deep breath. "And... and get a tattoo of you. Your name. On me."

He doesn't say anything. At all. Fer like five minutes. Until I take a breath to say, Okay, I toldja you'd think it was dumb, and ya do, and that's okay, cuz I know it was stupid so just forget it. Then he says something.

"You'd... you'd permanently mark yourself? With my name?" he asks. 

And the way he says it makes the hair on my body stand up and gets me hard in like four heartbeats.

"Uh, uh, well, yeah. 'Course I would. 'Cept when I was thinkin' how I'd like ta get rid of the Champion tattoo, that made me realize how tattoos aren't really life long and permanent. Not like they used to be when sailors got 'em and stuff.

"When my Uncle Matt was in the Navy during Korea, he got a bunch of tattoos. And my mom was always like, 'Now he'll always have these tattoos, and it will always say that WAV girl's name, Betty June on his arm, even though he never saw her again.' Except my mom didn't know lasers were comin'. Didn't know that someday Uncle Matt could have Betty June lasered right off his skin. Well, if he was still alive anyway. But, anyway. That was what made me think about how tattoos aren't, like, as permanent as they usedta be. The laser surgery they can do now."

My hard-on, which was stiff, is startin' to deflate. He doesn't say anything for a long time.

And then he just says again, "You'd permanently mark your body? With my name?"

Boing. Hard as a rock again. Uh, ya didn't get that the first time, Benton-buddy? I roll over onto my side so's I can look at him, instead of the ceiling. He's already lookin' at me. Funny expression. Something between freaked and like he got the best Christmas present. Hmmm. Maybe this wasn't such a bad plan -- telling him, anyway.

"Yeah, Frase, I would," I tell him. And I mean it. I think about going under the needle again. Getting Benton Fraser inked on me. It'd sting. It'd itch. I'd do it anyway. And now I'm itchin' in a totally different way, but Frase doesn't know that.

He rolls over onto his side, too. Reaches out and touches my cheek. "Where would you put it?" he asks me.

If I'm in, I'm in all the way. And if he wants this, it's the least I could do for him.

"I dunno. I thought, I could just get rid of the Champion tattoo and have your name on the other arm."

"People would see it," he says, seriously. "They'd know about us." 

"I know," I tell him. "I don't care." And I don't. I know I'd get a lot of shit. But, right now, that doesn't matter. All that matters is, him believing me. _Knowing_ I'm telling him the truth.

"Of course you do," he says. He's stroking my cheek now. I wish he'd stroke other parts of me... but this is fine.

"No, Frase, I don't," I tell him. And it's true, I realize. I could leave, well, pretty much everything behind. If I had to. Take all kinds of shit for him.

"Well, I do," he says. Surprises me until he continues. "I wouldn't want anything to happen to you. I wouldn't want you to suffer for loving me."

"I'm willing to suffer, Frase," I tell him. It's another one of those things I say without thinking, but after I say it, I realize I'm telling the truth about that, too.

"No, Ray, I'd never ask that of you," he says. But I can tell he is pleased. "What was the other thing you thought of to prove your commitment?" he asks, kinda shy and sweet. God, he drives me nuts. 

"Well, uh, I hope you won't take this the wrong way, Fraser. And it's not even possible in this state. We could do it in another state, but it wouldn't be recognized here in Illinois."

His eyebrows go up, but now he's stroking my shoulder, my upper arm.

"Go on," he tells me.

I take a deep breath. "I know some states will do same-sex civil services. Or, or even here in Chicago, they don't do same-sex civil services at City Hall... but there are a buncha churches on the North Side that'll marry a same-sex couple. Not Catholic churches, but..." I trail off, embarrassed.

"You'd... you'd do that?" he asks, looking frightened.

"Only if you wanted to," I tell him quick. "I don't have to... for me. I know how I feel about you. But if you wanted... ya know, like I said... proof. That I mean what I say. That was the other thing I thought of. And even if it isn't recognized legally, we'd still know it happened..." I trail off.

He doesn't say nothin' for a long time. Then he's still strokin' my arm when he says, "Somehow the tattoo seems more permanent." He must be thinkin' about Stella. "And romantic."

And he pulls me to him and kisses me hot and strong and I was already hard and now my cock's jumpin' and everything's suddenly great with his tongue in my mouth.

His mouth trails off mine to my neck. "Ray..." he mumurs.

"Frase. Benton Fraser," I say, imagining his name spelled out on my skin.

"We'd have to have it somewhere where others wouldn't see but that meant something."

"My... my hip." I can't believe he's goin' for this. But I'm so glad he wants to. I hope it means he wants me to make it obvious, to show him... to _prove_ it.

"The locker room at the precinct," he reminds me.

"My cock."

"Ray, that would undoubtedly be extremely painful. And, ah, well, there's still the possibility of others seeing that, in a locker room or..."

"My balls."

"Ray, that would be just as painful, if not more so!" He blinks at me.

"Frase, it's gonna hurt, no matter where it goes."

"But surely it will hurt more in some places than in others!"

"Well, yeah, but..."

"Well, there you are."

"Right, but I'm just saying..." I trail off because his hands are moving all over my body now. I didn't let on that I was getting excited, even though I was. Figured I'd just let things cool off the rest of tonight. But now he's gettin' all touchy-feely. It's always nice when he does it, but it's always a surprise too. He strokes his hand down my body. From my chin, over my neck and throat, down my chest, to my hard cock.

I can't help moaning when he strokes down my cock through the sheet and blanket.

"Not there... not here..." he says, stroking over my hip and slipping his hand behind my ass to cup my butt cheek. "Not here," he says, definite.

He strokes back over my hip and down the valley between my thighs, through the furrow of the sheet and blanket.

"What about... there?" he asks me, notching his fingertips between my thighs, though they're still covered by the sheet and blanket. "No..." he reconsiders. He peels back the blanket and sheet and strokes me through my briefs. He pushes me gently so I lay on my back again, and then he cups my balls through my underwear and strokes me from the balls up... once... twice... three times. It feels so good. I'm hard and probably sticky and it's great.

And then, he slowly peels down my underwear, down to my knees, down to my ankles (he has to sit up to do this), and off over my feet. Then he moves up the bed again and strokes my cock once more, and I am sticky... And then he cups my balls again, strokes them, squeezes and pulls them lightly. But then he slips his first two fingers under them. He strokes the skin between my balls and my hole. 

"Here," he says. "No one would see... except me."

"Yeah," I breathe, hardly able to believe he's 1) gettin' frisky with me without me startin' things and B) going for the tattoo concept. "Just you. I couldn't even see it."

"Yes," he tells me, then corrects himself. "Actually, you could see it in a mirror, Ray."

"That's not the point, Frase," I tell him.

And he knows it's true, cuz he just looks at me and nods.

And he's still stroking me behind my balls. God, it feels so good. I'm hard as a rock, cock oozing, and I dunno whether I should do anything to him or not. I'm so horny now I'm trembling, but it's not just horniness. It's hot behind my eyes, but I'm so happy and I feel so relieved.

"Ray," he whispers, and leans over to kiss me, hard and deep. And then his mouth is gone and before I can even wonder where it went he sucks the sticky head of my cock into his mouth and I gasp from the sudden sensation.

"Frayyyyy-zerrrrr," I moan and then he's workin' me and I'm lost because those fingers are circling around my twitching hole and I know he's gonna shove 'em in me and it's just a matter of time.

And then he suddenly takes his mouth from my cock, which makes me moan again, missing his mouth -- and then it's on me again, but sucking my balls so good. His wet fingertips are teasing my hole and his other hand's stroking down my stomach from my navel to my cock. He grips me hard, then, with his free hand, and sucks my cock into his mouth at the same time as he shoves one finger in.

It's all I can do not to levitate off the bed but that's fine by me. He's working his finger in and out and then there's another one. By this time, even though he already fucked the hell outta me earlier, I'm ready to come -- I'm moaning and my legs are shaking. And that's when he sticks the third finger in, which I'm not expecting. And I don't know what he does, but he does somethin' that makes me feel like my ass and my cock are tight together in velvet pressure, like one giant nerve. There's no escape, just the feeling of being somehow filled, sucked, trapped, and squeezed ...and that sets me off, like a rocket, jerking and moaning and spurting into Fraser's mouth.

He swallows all my come. I still feel like I'm vibrating when I feel the sudden withdrawal of his fingers from my ass. And that vacancy almost makes me moan more than having my ass filled does. Almost but not quite. He strokes me between my balls and butthole and then kisses me there, with some soft, little licks and sucks that feel so soothing.

It was, what? Maybe ten, fifteen minutes at the most? Even more amazing since I came once already today. I'm spent and drowsy, and now I can finally sleep... and it's like five o'clock in the morning and I have to get up in an hour and a half.

"Fraser... Frase..." I can barely get it together to say his name, I'm so blown away.

"Yes, Ray," he says into my balls, the vibration a little too much thrill for my oversensitive cock and balls. I feel his mouth move off me and then it's on mine, soft and wet and hot and so good.

"Oh, God, Fraser. Why are you so good to me. I dunno why you are, but, God it's better than anything I've ever known," I babble when he takes his lips away.

His arms go around me and I try to wrap my jelly-arms and legs around him. "I'm good to you because you deserve it, Ray," he whispers.

My brain feels like it exploded and my thoughts are everywhere. 

"But what about when I'm bad to you..." I trail off, whispering. Not that it matters. I can't hardly think. All that matters is I didn't lose him. I won't. I refuse.

He pauses. And then he replies, "When you're bad to me... I'll be bad to you. And you'll take it."

I dunno what to say or what to think. Pretty soon I'm gonna pass out anyway, sheer exhaustion. But I have to tell him one more thing. 

"I will, Frase. I'll take it."

And now I really am asking for it. And does he realize it?

In a way, I hope he does... in another way, I hope he doesn't. But whatever happens, I'll take it.  
  
  
  
  
Verushka likes feedback...

**Author's Note:**

> Great thanks to Erica for beta-reading.  
> 


End file.
